by Неизвестный
Her face lowered, long tresses of black curls obscuring her visage, shoulders slumping as she sat down. Lise leaned back in the chair, shrugging to her audience in resignation. “Do as you will, but know this; if you do not prepare for what is truly coming, you will be swept aside along with the rest of us.”
The room was still, and no one spoke for long moments. Lise looked up, and found Daysuan smiling to her, and Jo’seph nodded.
“One moment my home planet of Sparta was preparing for what it thought might be a possible invasion by Lordillian forces,” continued Admiral Jo’seph, “the next we were fleeing for our lives and finding the stragglers from other civilizations that had suffered the same quick fate in order to strike back as one. We all perish if we let them simply take us down one by one, but together, with each new army, each new piece of knowledge or technology or weapon we can prevail.” He formed a fist in front of him, glaring up at the seated figures around him. “But we must act now, or bear out the sum of all our fears within this chamber.”
Suddenly there was a flash, like a light bulb overloading.
Just as Lise caught the movement from the corner of her eye, so private Zhade was already moving to his admiral’s side. By then the blasts had already sailed between them both, catching an even faster-to-react Coalition bodyguard full in the chest. The man slumped against admiral Jo’seph, and they both crumpled to the council floor. The whole of the council erupted in a collective gasp of surprise, and suddenly the room was a flurry of confused motion. Lise and Zhade tracked the shots’ origins, and Lise had the small blaster in her hand just as her counterpart brought his rifle to bear on a figure near the chamber doors. The man, whom Lise had not noticed before, was robed just as the other delegates. He turned to meet the gaze of the admiral’s guards, firing another shot that sent a plasma blast just over the shoulder of Zhade’s left arm. As he ducked aside, Lise got off her own round, the bolt striking the robed man in the neck, forcing him down. Zhade ran forward, shouting for anyone near to move away as he reached the fallen man’s gun to kick it aside and cover the prone figure.
“He’s dead,” Lise said, coming to stand next to her fellow soldier.
“Nice shot,” replied the private. “He hadn’t expected you to be armed.”
Lise raised an eyebrow in disgust. “He was misinformed.” She holstered the weapon and, leaving Zhade to watch over the assassin, turned to find admiral Jo’seph. She hurried back across the room. “Admiral!”
“I’m all right, Commander.” The man stood, brushing off his officer’s jacket. Lise’s eyes returned to the gallery around her, ignoring the startled delegates to watch for any further attempts on the admiral’s life. “Private Culnari is down. His armor took the brunt of the attack, but he’ll need immediate attention.”
“I need a medic over here, please. Now!” She turned to a Moonshau guard. “Is there a hospital center close by?”
“No, commander,” replied Jo’seph. “We’re taking him with us. We’re leaving.”
“But the delegation,” objected Lise.
“Can wait. It’s adjourned, in case you haven’t noticed.” He smiled at her wearily. “Don’t worry, I haven’t given up.”
“Commander,” came Zhade’s voice from the chamber entrance. Lise and the admiral’s group moved to where the soldier knelt. A Coalition delegate gasped, and Lise looked to where Zhade had pulled some of the burnt flesh of the assassin’s neck aside to reveal charred metal and wires.
“Lordillians,” hissed Lise.
“But this man is partially organic.” Daysuan had come to stand beside Lise, his face drawn and pale from the surprising incident and its violence. “I thought Lordillians were completely robotic, not cybernetic.”
Lise never took her eyes from the smoking corpse. “Those who want power are promised it by Chebonka in the form of partial conversion. Prove your worthiness to the Lordillian cause, and the Lordillians then make you immortal, downloading your mind into the final form of the Lordillian shock trooper.” She looked briefly to Zhade. “Private!”
“Ma’am.”
“We’re leaving. Have a stretcher party set up, and double-time it. I’ll contact the escort and the ‘Return’. You’re now the first line of defense between the universe and the Admiral.”
“Understood, Commander.”
Admiral Jo’seph came to stand next to Daysuan as the room continued to empty of its senate. “No pressure, private Zhade.” The soldier just looked at him, almost registering surprise. “Delegate Daysuan, I believe today’s proceedings have ended. I don’t think anything further can be gained by putting both our lives in jeopardy.”
Daysuan was almost visibly shaking now, staring down at the dead figure bleeding on the council carpeting. “I see,” was all he said.
“However, I hope that today’s events will not be the end of our endeavors. Indeed, perhaps this attack might sway opinions, or at least the time consumption of debate, in our favor.”
The Moonshau delegate turned, gripping the admiral’s hand in his. “Sir, I can only offer my apologies and sincerest hopes. I... I don’t know what to say, except that I too hope to continue this as soon as possible.” He looked again at the fallen assassin, a look of disgust passing over his features... “They’re already here. I must redouble my efforts.”
“I will be in touch with you within the week, then, senator.” And just as suddenly the Coalition group had moved into the waiting transport just outside the chambers and began making their way back out to the field where their transport waited.
A shock ran through the metal helm, causing circuits to respond and signal hydraulics to react and momentarily spasm. If Chebonka, the ‘android born of man’, still had eyelids they would have fluttered open at that moment, but instead the shock of waking from the dream only automatically switched on his viewing circuits with that much quicker a response.
Chebonka sat on his charging console, a huge power outlet that resembled a chair. The room was black and filled with smoke, a byproduct of the power that had just flowed through his huge metal body. He stood, commanding the door leading to his throne room to open, again finding himself contemplating the strange fact that he had never been able to purge the dream state of the subconscious from his system, finding that to be strangely unsettling.
The throne room was enormous and spacious as it was dark and foreboding. No mortal being had entered its hallowed recesses in the years since the base's completion, yet Chebonka found the moody lighting served to further his contemplations even if no man now entered in fear. Large metal supports criss-crossed the chamber and steps led to the dais upon which his ruling throne rested. He sat down within its steel supports. There were no mirrors within this chamber of horrors on the Lordillian's lightning world, but if there had been then Chebonka's sight would have been met by his own hulking visage; an armored and masked apparition of robotic power, complete with wide, metal-padded shoulders and a cowl of equal temper that flared about his helmed head. The face was devoid of common human features save the slated eyes, the mouth being simply vents cut horizontally through the creased mask. Despite the cold alien nature of his design, those edged metal eyes couldn’t hide the hate they glowered from within.
A robotic servitor rolled forward, holding Chebonka's symbol of power, a large sword of ancient design, and stood at its master's side. The ruler and inventor of the Lordillians sat upon his throne and called for his generals. “Report.”
From the darkness two large silhouettes with burning eyes emerged, and from metallic voices came their pledge to Chebonka. The first bowed before beginning his report and a file within Chebonka’s electric brain approved, having created the Lordillian race in his own image even though the machines resembled him little physically. “Two Lordillian battle cruisers en route to planet Moonshau. Estimated time to arrival is now five minutes, proceeding then to atmospheric entry followed by a low-level attack formation. ETA to target is twenty minutes. We calculate minor resis
tance from surface batteries and destruction of any Coalition forces within an additional fifteen minutes.”
The figure stepped back, and its counterpart stepped forward and bowed. “Lordillian ground forces on planet Sparta report slave labor uprising. Opposition crushed after a two percent loss of garrison forces. Mining operations continue, but natural resource output has fallen by another forty percent. Planet Goleida garrison reports operations up five percent. Planet…”
“Enough,” commanded Chebonka. He rose from the throne and took the sword from the servitor. “Download complete report to memory core and contact Kordula to arrange further materials transfer.” He stepped back through the portal to his personal meditation and energy transference chamber, saying as the hatch closed behind him, “Inform me when we have confirmation of the destruction of all Coalition forces on Moonshau.” He knew without looking back that his Lordillian generals again bowed to him, for that was what they were programmed to do without fail.
Within the blackened chamber Chebonka listened, the network of transmissions, information, memory, and every other fiber of activity within the enormous Lordillian base sifting through his mind. His connection with the station’s memory core optimized with a single thought, and he again began to sift through the files on ancient weaponry, its origins, uses, and artistic forms. For the five hundred and fifty-third time since the blade had come into his possession and symbolized his power, Chebonka tried to access any source information on that particular sword’s origins. Again he hit a collective wall, and again he felt the frustration and anger rise, believing despite evidence or logic that those of Kordula withheld that knowledge from him. For if there were any beings within the vermin infested universe that he reluctantly counted as allied to his cause that knew what he wanted to learn, it was the race that called themselves the Gods of Kordula. He knew somehow that they were hiding the history of the very artifact within his metal hand.
Chebonka fought the strangely mortal desire to howl in rage. As the strength of anger poured through his systems the sword in his hands began to react, blue tinted power flowing like acidic smoke from the now-glowing blade, illuminating the metallic helm of Chebonka. He stared down in calculation as the energy ran like lightning around the sword, tracing the triangular symbols of the Triialon on its ancient hilt before dissipating.
Lise watched the capitol city of Moonshau recede onto the horizon behind their transport as her team made its way back to the landing zone. The young woman found herself trying to fight down a terrible sense of dread. Despite her training and all of the battles she had already encountered in her life, she had never been so close to any sort of assassination attempt on anyone who meant so much to the Coalition as admiral Jo’seph did. During these desperate times they needed more allies than ever before, and the events of the delegation may have served against the Moonshau entering the Coalition. All this and more flooded through Lise’s mind, and she glanced at Jo’seph. Seeing him simply staring forward and waiting to board his craft after a day’s work as if the events were everyday made her smile to herself. The door of the transport opened to let the Coalition members disembark and she brushed aside a strand of her hair blown across her face by the winds across the plain. Lise stood, looking at the sky and then back to her admiral. She saw a moment of concern pass over his features. The foreboding returned. “There’s a storm coming,” she said to no one in particular.
“Be ever on your guard, commander.” Jo’seph said to her. “Saving my life once today doesn’t let you off the hook.”
Lise smiled. “Sir.”
The wind picked up again, and for the briefest moment Lise found herself adjusting her stance so the gusts did not knock her over.
“Sir, I can’t raise the ‘Return.’” Zhade had a com-set in his hand, a look of concern in his eyes. “I think the signal’s being jammed.”
“A spy among the Moonshau?” asked Lise.
“Could be, but I doubt the Lordillians would have needed an insider to get that hit man into the council chamber. I think it’s something else.” Jo’seph called over the wind to the escort pilots waiting by their fighters. “Get airborne, and be on alert!”
The Coalition team and their admiral were making their way over to the transport when the air suddenly changed. There was an echoing explosion, as if from a long distance off, yet loud and terrifying, rumbling around the grassy hills. Lise ducked slightly, startled, and looking up she saw dust and fire raining down from the cruiser above. It had been hit moments before by unseen fire, which caused an explosion they were just now able to hear. There was a gasp from the massed troops watching the sky as a second volley was briefly visible, striking the ship and tearing through its hull. Lise quickly tracked the origin of the shot.
“There!” Lise pointed over the city. Hovering above the Moonshau spirals and towers were a pair of ships of equal size to their own cruiser. The Lordillian ships were ovoid in shape, laying on their sides, with fins, lances, batteries and other details mounted all over the hulls, projected sections in the front bearing each ship’s bridge. An arch curved over the main body from one fin to the other, a main canon mounted in the center of the arch. One ship fired at the hovering Coalition cruiser again while the second rained battery fire down onto the city below it, causing a deep rumble to reach their ears. “They must have entered the atmosphere on the dark side of the planet! The Moonshau airships didn’t even see them come over the horizon they were so fast!”
The lead cruiser advanced quickly, heading straight for their damaged mother ship. Lise looked up, gripped by a fear she had not felt since the day Sparta was attacked. The Lordillian Cruiser loomed over them, casting a shadow down onto the exposed crowd, its guns trained on them. She glanced up one last time, watching one Bat fighter move to cover the Admiral's group. Another ship exploded, destroyed by a bolt from above that incinerated the craft before it could even lift off. Above the smoke and death the ‘Return’s altitude dropped as it struggled to remain flying. Lise clenched her teeth, buffeted by the wind and explosions, waiting for death.
ALSO BY SCOTT P. VAUGHN:
Tales of the Hero-Lore
Slaves of Shebwai
(writing as Scarlett Vaughn)
Shards of Destiny
(coming 2013)
ALSO BY KANE GILMOUR:
Resurrect: A Jason Quinn Thriller
Callsign: Deep Blue
(with Jeremy Robinson)
Ragnarok: A Jack Sigler Thriller
(with Jeremy Robinson)
The Crypt of Dracula
Omega: A Jack Sigler Thriller
(with Jeremy Robinson, coming 2013)
ALSO BY SCOTT P. VAUGHN
AND KANE GILMOUR:
Warbirds of Mars ongoing webcomic
(www.warbirdsofmars.com)
Warbirds of Mars printed comic, issue #1
(Available at Indy Planet)
Warbirds of Mars printed comic, issue #2
(Available at Indy Planet)
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously and should not be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Characters and concepts copyright © 2013 by Scott P. Vaughn.
Cover art and design copyright © 2013 by Scott P. Vaughn and Bill Farmer.
Title page logo and illustration copyright © 2013 by Scott P. Vaughn.
Foreword copyright © 2013 by Scott P. Vaughn. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Jean Arrow. Introduction copyright © 2013 by Kane Gilmour. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Robert Hack. “Hunter Noir” copyright © 2013 by Scott P. Vaughn. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Nik Poliwko. “In The World Today” copyright © 2013 by Megan E. Vaughn. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Christian Guldager. “Southern Cross” copyright © 2013 by Jeffrey J. Mariotte. Illustration copyright © 2013 by John Lucas. “The Deadly T
riad” copyright © 2013 by Alex Ness. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Richard Serrao. “The Farmboy’s Adventure” copyright © 2013 by Sean Ellis. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Dan Parsons. “The Bitter Edge” copyright © 2013 by Kane Gilmour. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Jason Worthington. “The Monsters of Adobe Wells” copyright © 2013 by Ron Fortier. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Rob Hicks. “The Skull of Lazarus” copyright © 2013 by Megan E. Vaughn. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Mike DeBalfo. “Red Sky Phoenix: The Rise of Free Russia” copyright © 2013 by Alex Ness. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Paul Roman Martinez. “Human Guile” copyright © 2013 by Chris Samson. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Matthew Goodall. “Surprise” copyright © 2013 by Stephen M. Irwin. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Nathan Morris. “The Road Out of Antioch” copyright © 2013 by J. H. Ivanov. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Bill Farmer. “Shipwrecked” copyright © 2013 by David Lindblad. Illustration copyright © 2013 by Adriano “Andy” Carreon. “Refined Elegance” and illustration copyright © 2013 by Scott P. Vaughn.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address Quickdraw Books at [email protected]
Visit Warbirds of Mars on the World Wide Web at:
http://www.warbirdsofmars.com